"What is up?" Ah Q said, somewhat annoyed.
"The Chaos . . . they have been robbed!" little Don said panting.
Ah Q's heart jumped. Little Don moved on, but Ah Q vacillated. After all he had been in "that line" and was on that account bolder than most people. He emerged from around the corner and listened attentively. He seemed to hear sounds. He looked and fancied he saw people in white helmets and white armor, carrying out chests, furniture—including the Nanking bed of the licentiate's wife—but he could not see very clearly in the darkness. He thought of going up nearer, but his legs would not move.
It was a moonless night. Wei village lay in peaceful quiet such as prevailed in the primeval days of Fu Hsi. Ah Q stood and watched until he began to feel weary of the endless procession of chests, tables, Nanking beds that he fancied he saw, and until he began to doubt the trustworthiness of his own eyes. He decided to return to the temple.
The temple was even darker than the streets. He closed the gate after him and stumbled into his own room. Lying in bed he turned the matter over in his mind; the men in white helmets and white armor had been here, no more doubt of that, and they had not asked him to join them. They had carried off a lot of things and he had not gotten his share of the loot. It was all the fault of the fake foreigner, who forbade him the revolution, otherwise, he thought, how could he have been denied his share? The more he thought about it the more indignant he became, until his heart was filled with hatred and bitterness, and he said, nodding his head with grim determination: "No revolution for me, eh? but only for yourself, eh? Fake foreigner, your mother's ! All right, revolt all you like: the punishment for revolt is
